Empty Road, Full Mind

He doesn’t know, and to put it frankly, I don’t want him to.

“How was work today?” he asks me. I glance over at him, trying not to show him more attention than the road, and push out a response.

“It wasn’t terrible, but it also wasn’t anything special either. Truthfully, it’s the same old, monotonous routine that I have been stuck in since I started there.” My hands grip the steering wheel a bit too tight as I finish my response; a sensation of anger tends to consume me when I ponder too long on this aspect of my life, and really it happens when I think of my existence as a whole. 

I was sad at first, when I began to contemplate what I am doing, if I am ever going to be something more than a man who is confined to an office building five days a week. I fell into a noticeable depression, and although Francis had tried everything he could to pull me out of it, a part of me stayed in the rut. I don’t let it show, or rather I try not to, as he does look at me concernedly from time to time, like he is now as I can see him staring at me from my peripherals. I move my head slightly to once again look at him, and his head turns a little too quickly to look at the never ending, sprawling road in front of us.

“I know work has been stressing you out,” he says softly. “You haven’t been as smiley as usual.” He caresses my right thigh gently, petting me like I’m a sad kitten in need of its mother. 

“You really do know me better than anyone else,” I respond with a slight smile on my face. “But I think this weekend away will help me get into a better mindset. Alone time with my favorite guy, in one of the most beautiful coastal towns is something that could make even the most disheartened person happy.”

This false sense of hope I display to him is almost even believable to me. I wasn’t telling him the truth though, it was simply the answer I know Francis would enjoy hearing the most. 

“Well, good,” he says as a cheesy grin covers his face. “I’m honestly quite excited. The nature around here always leaves me breathless; I mean look at that sunset.” He points over the tree line to our right, and long strips of blue, pink, and purple sky are interwoven together. He sighs, leans forward, and puts his elbows on his knees as he props his head into his palms. 

He sits like this for a few miles, and I can tell he is starting to nod off into a light sleep. 

“Hey,” I say quietly, “Why don’t you lean back and take a nap? We still have a few hours to go before we make it there anyways; you might as well rest.”

He looks at me with eyes that yearn for sleep, yawns, and gives in to my bargaining as he reclines. He falls asleep almost instantly; I knew he was tired. I am too, but not in the same way as him. I’m more so exhausted from living a life that I fear has no great joy in it. While Francis and I have been together for several years, three in December, and I love him dearly, there comes a breaking point where the want and need for change is the only thing that I find myself longing for. I don’t crave him like I used to. I don’t fantasize about the things we could do together, or what we could become in the future. I don’t see myself being with him within the next three months, or even weeks. And although this may be the case, I don’t see myself being without him, nor do I see us ever genuinely separating. The only picture that my mind conjures up when thinking about him and I is us laying side by side in a shallow grave. Our fingers are interlaced, never to be torn apart, and we will spend our eternities forever by each other’s sides. 

Not an ounce of my being wants this though. No matter how hard I convince myself that he is the one for me, and I for him, the everlasting fear of confinement and living a life I find no genuine happiness in is one that is enough to drive me to insanity. I’m not positive if maybe this is a sort of psychotic breakdown that I’m experiencing, considering he has always been good to me, but I also don’t want to keep lying to myself and him.

My breathing begins to quicken, so I try and recenter my focus on the road to distract myself from my wandering mind. There are hardly any fellow drivers around, and headlights and taillights can only be seen occasionally. It’s basically just him and I out here, alone, like usual. Alone in the sense that we spend every waking moment together, and I barely know what life is like without him. I need to know what a world that doesn’t revolve around him and work is like. A world in which I can still find pleasure in little things, and contentment in my daily life. This cannot be made possible though, if he is still in it. 

I look over at him once more and ultimately decide that if I don’t do it now, the deed will never be done.

I slow down, and drift over onto the right shoulder of the expressway. The rumble strip begins to shake the car, and I can see that it is stirring him awake. Francis’s eyes flutter open, and he sits himself up in the passenger seat. 

He looks at me with a slight tinge of worry in his face, and asks, “What’s wrong, did we run out of gas?” 

I put the car in park and lock eyes with him. I’m afraid tears will begin to form, but none do, as I know now that this moment is a turning point in my life for the better. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “We need to break up.”